Stigma of Cocoon
by Master of Chronicles
Summary: The worlds of FFVII and FFXIII collide like never before in this tragic look at what could happen if Cocoon ever found itself above the planet of the Lifestream. Two people, two tales, one fate.
1. Chapter 1

I love chaos.

It obeys no master, answers to no judgement, withholds no secrets.

It travels the world inbetween beats of my heart, claiming everything and nothing.

Can I be with a force beyond my mortality? Will it accept me into its arms?

Chaos is both kind and vicious, tender and fierce, loving and unloving.

It binds the strong, releases the weak, upholds justice and destroys it.

It's the storm that tears away the forest and exposes the ocean beds.

It plants the seeds of the future and wipes away the past.

I love chaos.

But can it love me?

Stigma of Cocoon

A infectious lump of decaying flesh, an open sore, an oozing scab. That is what everyone thinks when they looked up into the sky and see it. It keeps the children crying late at night when they should be peacefully asleep. It gives fathers ulcers from never ending stress. It causes would be mothers to unnaturally abort the infants in their wombs.

That is what Cocoon is to the world below it.

There was no warning, no hint at its approach. It simply appeared that fateful day, high above the surface of the world, an unwanted second moon. People paniced and cried. Had Meteor come again? Was the enemy of all that lived not dead, once again on the hunt? They turned to their leaders, begging for reassurance. But what can be offered to them when there was nothing to offer?

For a year it remained, motionless. Anxiety passed, people calmed, and life returned to what it had been before. The large sphere in the sky soon began to fascinate, to attract a desire to understand the unkown, to explore. Large ships were built, attempts to contact it were made, and debates were held.

What was this wonderous marvel in the heavens?

Late one night, on the anniversary when peace returned to the world, hundreds upon hundreds of stars shot out from the orb, sailing across the sky at amazing speeds. Many stared in awe, the scene more beautiful and stunning than anything they had ever seen. One week later, on the exact day, the plague struck. Bruises that wouldn't heal appeared on the skin of many, black fluids oozing out like rotten blood. A touch was enough to infect, a month was what it took to kill. But it spread quickly, through touch and by breath. Like wildfire it ran across the entire planet, leaving cities of the dead behind. Cocoon had to be the source. Where else could the stigma had come from?

But it did more than just kill.

Those who didn't die tranformed into hideous monsters, figures of melted, twisted flesh, burning eyes and howling throats. They feasted on the dead, and then each other when no more sustenance could be found. Some grew large and powerful, others herded together like hounds and hunted in packs. Some could fly, others swam, all suffered from unending hunger. In a matter of five years, the orb dubbed Cocoon Of Death had killed almost the entire planet.

A small remnant remained of the human race, immune to the stigma or else having avoided all contact by sheer chance. Some wandered, others hid deep underground. Fang Oerba was a wanderer.

For years she had been wandering, not sure of what she wanted to find or even what it might be. But she never stayed still very longer. She had tried before and suffered for it.

As she walked the long, treacherous miles from wasteland to wasteland, she grew tried of seeing nothing but emtpy fields of dried grass and blowing sand. Her heart craved for green trees, blue skies and a yellow sun. But the stigma drained the entire planet of life. All was merely shades of grey.

_Where to now?_

It was that question she asked herself every day. There was no one to meet or talk to, and odds were that they would be just as deadly as the monsters that roamed the world. The remnant of humanity didn't trust themselves, killing a stranger as soon as they were in sight. Fang bore scars from sniper bullets shot from many hundreds of yards away without receiving any warning. But she couldn't blame them. Anyone could be carrying the plague. Why take the chance?

The nights were the hardest. A cold wind blew after sunset each day, a killing frost that forgave no one. Sleep was always interupted when the fire died down, needing more and more fuel. At least there were plenty of dead trees around for dry wood, but even that positive thought carried saddness in it. She would often times hug herself, trying to warm her body with its own heat. Most nights were spent awake. The thought of simply being alive was sufficient to keep her going. But how she wanted someone, anyone, to be with.

Craving that interaction drove her to talk to her sole companion, her staff weapon.

"I think that's Midgar over beyond the ridge." She said to it, increasing her pace to a jog. "At least what's left of it."

Fang had never been to the central city before, but heard stories from others who had dwelt there before the spread of the stigma.

"It's elevated, apparently. Sitting on a giant plate as though it's too good to be on the ground. Imagine what it must've been like, walking around knowing right below your feet was a twenty story drop!" Fang half laughed, glancing around at her spear which rested across her shoulders. "Think we should take a look?"

The red staff uttered no word in reality, but to her its answer was clear. "I know there might be Spawns. But they can be found anywhere. Maybe there might be some real food hidden in the rubble. I know I'm tired of raw root."

Though she could see the abandoned city at a distance, it took more than one day to reach it. She had to first cross a desert filled with stigma infected rats and other animals that had once lived in Midgar, but were know vicious beast wanting flesh to eat. Fang earned more battle marks, thin cuts and scraps from prodding claws and teeth. But she pinned many of them to the earth with one stroke, clearing a decent path for herself. When she finaly did arrived, it was the streets of the outter town of Edge that she wandered through, going from one house to another in search of anything that would help push her day of death further and further away. Fang found many boxes of jewelery, tossing them aside without even thinking twice. Gold and diamonds made for bad meals.

The hardest part of making her way through the belongings of complete strangers was that she soon got to know them. Fang would find letters, journals, pictures, clothes, everything that would reveal who the owner was and what they had been like. Family protraits hung often on the walls, water damaged, but still clearly visible. Fang would stare for hours at a time, looking up at the smiling faces of times past, then glancing down at the piles of white bones that they had become. The worst was when she saw that one body was missing and that the other bones had tooth marks on them.

"I wish I had died then." She whispered, for once to herself. Being the only witness of tragedy was a heavy burden to bear.

Fang moved on, carefully going through the cupboards, hoping to find some canned goods. She kept coming up empty. It seemed she hadn't been the first to scavenge the dead residences for a means to live.

Heavy breathing sounded from out the nearest window facing the street. It got her attention and curiousity got the better of her reason. She stealthly crept her way over to look, keeping herself out of view. Few were the things that breathed which didn't try to prevent others from doing so. Fang had learned that lesson the hard way.

A spawn was dragging itself along the edges of it's territory, making small grunting noises through it's large, gaping mouth as it made its way through the littered street. To Fang to looked like the upper half of a man, with only two arms to move about. But it was easily five times the size, any trace of humanity in it long since gone. It had one good eye which never stopped jerking about in every direction, no doubt searching for prey. Fang had little desire to fulfill its needs. True at times she wanted to die, but the desire to live was far greater.

Then squeaks reached her ears. Fang did her best to see what was the origin of the new sound, and the answer frooze her blood. Small, infected mice wandered about just on the other side of the wall, sniffing the air, catching a scent. Her scent. The mice often accompanied larger predators, eating the remains of whatever it killed. But they often assisted in finding it. If the spawn noticed their incessant noises, it would come and find the reason.

And it did.

With a moan it turned itself about, the eye fixed in her direction. Fang knew it could not see her, but also knew that the wall which seperated her and it was no protection at all. She remained completely still and silent. Maybe if it saw nothing it would leave. The spawn didn't move as well, but was propped up on its hands to get a better look. The eye blinked a few times, but remained the same color. Fang sighed in relief.

It unexpectedly charged with a sudden, painful wailing sound, using it's hands as feet to run wild, the eye now bright red in bloodlust. It had seen her! Fang knew to try and outrun it was to die. Spawns were quick as wind and still had the intelligence of a hunting man. That option was closed. Fang took a quick step back from the window, the oncoming monster mere feet away. She removed the crimson spear from it's sling and, with a strong heave, thrust it through the glass window and into the hungry beast. Black ooze spurted from it's wound on impact, the spear striking true. The spawn shrieked, falling backwards, failing it's arms about wildly. The mice, numbering in over three dozens, caught scent of fresh blood and attacked, swarming the dieing creature. Fang knelt down and covered her ears, trying to block out the death cries which sounded so human.

How she hated this dead planet!

An hour passed, the mice were gone, only wet bones remained. Her companion lay next to the carcass of the spawn, licked clean from any gore it had earned piercing it's target. Retrieving it, Fang looked about herself cautiously, seeing no other visitors who might have been within smelling distance of the kill. Spawns tend to gather wherever something died. Fang walked away without glancing back, not the first time having had used that technique. And she knew very well it wouldn't be the last.

Hoping her luck would be better in Midgar, she moved on, making her way over the large highways that went over and around the city. Many holes due to wear from the elements made it tricky. She never knew if the asphalt would hold or give way. More that once she had to leap to safety.

"What an exciting life we lead, eh?" She told her friend. "I was born for this. Endless running away, mutated flesh eating monsters and crumbling roads. What could happen next, I wonder?"

The answer loomed in front of her, an immense tower in comparison to the modest buildings around it. The Shinra Building had once been a symbol of the achievements of the world, now stood half collapsed, a skeleton of it's former glory. Immediately Fang's curiosity was picked. Maybe there was something of interest to be found there. Rumor had it the company which had once ruled the whole planet had many nasty secrets, most of which involved the death of innocents. The opportunity was perfect.

"What else can I do? It's not like daddy gave me a curfew." She smiled to herself.

However the traveling to the tower was no small task. From where she was, high up above the many houses and homes of former civilians, Fang could hear the snarls and growls of many spawns down below. At one time two of them began fighting, the sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones clearly discerned. They still weren't done by the time she had walked out of ear shot. Fang found an exit and took it, avoiding large gaps in the road. Night was coming, and she still had hours before she reached the tower. It was time to find a safe place to sleep.

That turned out to be a dumpster filled with the last garbage put into it before the stigma broke out. After stepping in, the first half hour was focused on her trying not to throw up a large beetle she had found and eaten on the highway. Once upon a time she would died before eating anything with more than four legs. But how time changes everything. The dumpster provided shelter from the rain, masked her smell from predators and, ironically enough, was soft and dry enough to be comfortable. It was times like these Fang was glad no one was around to see her. Pride was something she was still remembered but hardly ever practiced.

The cold came again moments after dark, and soon she was shivering. But to make a fire was to attract unwanted attention. She would simply have to force herself through it. It helped to think of better days, times with her friends when they had large, delicious meals and large bonfires in the evening. Laughter. She missed that sound of children laughing as they played or when mothers sung lullabies to their babies. There was one Fang loved in particular. She hummed it softly.

"When the sun sleeps sound

When the moon is found

I will hold you close and never let you down

As the kitten yawns and we wait for dawn

I'll sing to you this song

Rest my child, close your eyes for awhile

You'll play outside again.

Let me kiss you, let me love you

Our peace will never end."

Fang felt something hot roll off her cheeks and touch her arm. She had begun to cry and hadn't realized it. Wiping them away, she muttered angrily to herself that it was too late for self pity. Far too late.

Soon drowsiness fell upon har and she drifted in and out of sleep. At times a noise would sound nearby and she would hold her breath. But it always moved on and she relaxed. The ability to remain alert even while trying to rest was vital. But as her stomach growled Fang understood that food was just as important. When the first ray of the bright grey sun peaked over the horizon Fang got up and out of the dumpster, starting her search once again. She went to a place which she though most likely to have anything to eat, a place she had walked by the night before on her way to find shelter. 7th Heaven it was called, some kind of run down bar.

The front door had been bashed in years earlier, her feet stepping on the rotten splinters of it. Overturned tables and broken glasses were strewn out everywhere.

"There was a fight here, long ago." Fang told her spear, observing a deep gouge in the floor made by a massive blade. "I'm willing to bet the person who owned this won the fight."

The skeleton in the corner, it's skull perfectly cleave in half, confirmed her suspicions. However, despite the mess, the bar itself seemed wholy undamaged. With a quick hop Fang cleard the counter and immediately opened the cabinets.

"Come on, come on. Let me get lucky just this once. Please give me a break here." She muttered, seeing nothing but empty bottles. She moved them to the side to see deeper into the cupboards.

"Yes!" She exclaimed.

Brandy. A fifteen year old brandy still half full in a respectfully large bottle. Fang was so happy she wanted to shout and hoot for herself, but knew that company would soon come blundering in to snack on her. Fang decided to go up the stairs she saw in the corner and enjoy her new found treat upstairs. The steps creaked horribly, and for a moment Fang was worried that if a spawn had made its way into the house and was using it as its den she might have just woken it up. She kept still, her spear in one hand, the bottle of liquor in the other.

Nothing. She moved on.

There was one open door at the top on the second flight, and two after the first. The one at the top seemed to frighten her for some odd reason, mostly because it meant anything could wander in. Closed off rooms tend to be safer. Fang chose the first door and walked in. The curtains were drawn and it was completely dark. Fang tried to open them, but they were so old they simply tore off, filling the room with dust. Fang coughed and coughed, cursing all the while. Couldn't she enjoy a drink in peace?

With sunlight filtering through the dirty windows she turned to get a better look at the room, jumping away when she saw two bodies lying in the bed. They had been dead for a long time, and it wasn't the first time she had seen the dead before. But she was unable to get used to the sight. From their decaying clothes she saw that it was a man and a woman, holding hands, facing each other. The word 'lovers' came to mind. A framed picture stood on the night stand next to the bed, that of a young man with blond, spikey hair and a long haired brunette. On the back it read 'Love forever, From Cloud for Tifa'.

Fang barked a laugh. "Cloud? Your name was Cloud? What, did your parents hate you or something?"

She stared back down at the couple. "Still. I guess you guys had something special. I wish I have someone to be with me when I go. That…would be nice."

Fang felt sad for a moment, then shook her head to clear it of those thoughts. "Who am I kidding? I've got some of your brandy to keep me happy, for the next few hours at least. Seeing how you guys have had the bed for the past few years…"

Grabbing hold of the blanket, Fang pulled the bodies off, letting them crash on the ground into pieces. She then leapt unto the bare mattress, putting her spear down and greedily hugging the brandy close "We'll say it's my turn."

The bottle opened with a hallow sound and soon she down several gulps. "Whew! I sure have missed that taste. You guys can certainly know how to treat a guest!"

And on it went. When she started Fang had ben completely aware of what was going on. But soon the alcohol got to her head, and she had never felt so carefree. She began talking loudly, talking to her spear, talking to the deceased couple, even to the bed itself, no longer caring. A shadow entered the room at one point, standing infront of her motionlessly. Fang began talking to it, offering it a drink, laughing as she poked fun at it, drinking away. Soon she felt her that her body was floating through the air, the sky spinning around above her. The sight made her stare blankly, her drunken stupor having taken full control. Her last conscious thought was that she was feeling the bottle slipping out of her hand and that she didn't care about anything anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**And hello to everyone. Wow! I haven't updated this in a really long time! Seriously, life just doesn't let you do everything you want. I have just discovered the Halo series and am neck deep into writing a crossover for Master Chief and Samus, I have still to finish FF 13 and I'm working on a God of War/Legend of Zelda and a Indiana Jones/Tomb Raider crossovers. Cripes, I am busy! And all that doesn't include how my doctor is telling me to get more sleep, my job, hanging out with my friends, being with my family. It's a wonder I write anything down anymore.**

**So here's the next chapter. I went through three drafts to get it to feel just right. I still don't know if I got it. Maybe not. Anyway, enough yaking. I hope you enjoy...and review...**

* * *

HEAVEN

Fang's first conscious thought after she woke up was that she was still alive to feel the unforgiving hangover that was giving a decent shot at killing her. She sat up, grabbing her head in both hands, groaning loudly.

"I'll never touch another drop of alcohol again." She promised. "Unless I happen to find some."

It took a minute for her vision to clear up, but when it did she noticed something was wrong.

"What the…where am I?"

She wasn't in the room at the bar anymore. She was…somewhere she did not recognize. It was big, wherever she was, with a high ceiling and a wide area with many benches and stone pillars lining up in a row like soldiers at attention. And there were windows, all of them filled with hundreds of different colors forming pictures and illustrations. There was something weird about the place. It felt immense, imposing, but was so quiet the slightest sound was like a shout. Just by breathing Fang as though she was disturbing some deep tranquility that resided there.

"I'm in a church!" She whispered, her head still not entirely clear. "How on earth did I get here?"

Slowly getting to her feet, Fang began to look around herself. A blanket was on the ground where she had been laying; a soft, green-colored blanket with frills on the edges. A canteen of water was in arms reach and her spear laid on the ground next to her. There was an odd smell in the air, something familiar but she was unable couldn't identify.

Keeping a sharp eye about the place, Fang reached down and picked up her friend. "Either I got really drunk last night and walked all the way here, or we were taken by something. Sorry about that. I should've never left myself become that vulnerable."

It was a stupid mistake, one that got people killed more often than not. The last time Fang had seen someone do something stupid, she had been the only one not to die.

Fang begun to explore her new surroundings. The place was inexplicably colorful, full of light and a refreshing sense of life. The air didn't reek of disease or spawns, the place wasn't full of scars or dried out corpses. However, it was a mess. Some of the benches were cracked or broken entirely, a few pillars had collapsed and a patch of flowers had completely overrun the area where the altar was supposed to be.

"Flowers!" Fang cried out in shock, running towards them. "How can there possibly be flowers? The stigma killed all life; human, animal, plant, even bacteria for heavens sake! What do you think of that?"

She smiled widely at her spear, reaching down to touch the nearest delicate plant. She had forgotten how soft the pedals could be, like the touch of fine silk. Come to think of it, Fang was having a hard time recalling what silk felt like. The stem of the flower was firm with a deep hue of green, healthy and strong. Finally she bent closer, caressing it with the end of her nose, taking in a deep breath. The aroma almost made her swoon.

"Beautiful." She said in wonder.

The bang of a closing door came somewhere from deeper inside the church.

Fang froze.

"There's something here." She said to herself, her defenses already up.

Suddenly a man walked into her line of sight. Fang stared in shock. A person! She was seeing an actual person! Alive!

And a very strange looking one at that. He was dressed in what looked like black leather underneath a heavy crimson coloured cloak with a match red band around his forehead. His left hand was encased in a golden gauntlet, whereas his right was hanging loosely at his side within easy reach of a very large gun.

Another thing Fang saw about him was that he…well…was kind of hot.

Seriously, though, how many survived the stigma and the ensuing rampage of spawns and managed to come out of it with long, black hair, bright eyes full of life and a face to die for? As he approached, she was having difficulty guessing his age. His face looked to be around thirty or so, but his eyes were ageless, eyes which had seen many life times.

_My word! His eyes are red._

She quickly stood up as he neared, still uncertain of who this stranger really was. Good? Bad? The stigma wasn't a selective killer. Fang had met all kinds over her wandering years, and many of her experiences she would rather forget. As far as she knew, this guy in front of her could've brought her to his place for his own reasons.

"That's far enough." She warned when he was only a few feet away. She glanced at his gun. Was she dreaming or did it have three barrels?

He did stop, but not because he feared her warning. More like he was humoring her. His stance, which was tall and straight, didn't change. He was like a statue, deceptively still. Fang had no doubt that he could kill and not blink. In this world, there was no other way to live. And Fang was still alive.

"I'm going to take my things, mister, and leave. I don't know why you brought me here, but I have never met anyone who gave something that didn't want something in return. We'll just part ways and leave it at that, okay?"

He didn't reply, merely stood motionless. Fang kept her eyes on him as she bent over, grabbed her spear, her only possession, grabbed the canteen of water to take a quick drink. She the last water she had come across had many rotting things floating in it and she was curious about what his would taste like and decided it was worth the risk. He had left it there besides her, hadn't he? She pulled her head back and took a swig, immediately spurting it out of her mouth. It was sweet! The water was so clean, so fresh it actually tasted sweet! Fang took another close look at her host/captor. He looked strong enough. He was terribly pale, but well toned and alert. Maybe he had some decent food to eat? Should she risk asking for some?

No doubt seeing her indicision, he spoke. "They were my friends."

His voice was deep and oddly entrancing, causing Fang to miss the actual words he said. "What?"

"They were my friends." He said again, only his lips moving. "The couple in the bed you shamelessly threw on the floor so you could get drunk, they were close friends of mine."

Fang blinked. Was he serious? "Sorry, pal, but they're dead. What do they care? I'm sure they would've rather someone alive and kicking use their stuff than just let it go to dust."

"Have you no respect for those who have passed on?" The man continued, not raising his voice, but taking on a steely edge. "Disgrace their memories and we'd be better off spawning."

Fang gave a low whistle. "Almost tens years of hell, and you've emerged a philosopher. Well I've been scraping ways not to die out of the palms of the dead for years on end, pal, and I do not mean that figuratively. So I broke your friends' dried out husks? Sorry. I'll be on my way, thinking of ways not to perish from being eaten, by starving or exposure. Have a nice day!"

Fang marched away, violently opening the front doors to the church and then slamming it behind her.

Fang paused as she looked down at the steps leading away from the church and out into the ruined street. Everywhere she looked, behind each corner, was waste and rubble. That was all. Why had she come to this place anyway? All it did was remind her of just how devastating the stigma of Cocoon had been. If she went into her memories and saw the faces of everyone she had known to find some peace, the sad truth of how they were long dead ruined it. Finally, after so long, she finally meets another person like her, surviving in a dead world, who had been decent enough to bring her to a safe place.

Safe.

There was a word she had forgotten about.

Fang turned around and stepped back in. The man was rolling up the carpet Fang had woken up on, his back to the door. Even though it was obvious he could hear her, he went about his work.

"What's your name?" She called out.

He stopped. "Vincent."

"Come on, now. Be honest with me. Vincent what?"

"Vincent Valentine." Was the answer.

"I'm Fang Oerba…Hi."

He didn't reply.

"Look." She said finally. "I'm sorry. I haven't seen or met anyone in four years. I haven't had a decent meal in three. I just wanted to get wasted and forget it all for as long as I could. I'm sorry I disrespected your friends. It looked to me like they were very much in love."

Vincent's gaze shifted from the carpet in his hands out into the empty space of memory. "Yes, they were. Very. I found them dead in the street, trying to get out of the city to look for a cure to the stigma, them and the children. I brought them back and laid them there, Cloud and Tifa in one room, Marlene and Denzel in the other. The kids weren't their children, but they looked after them as if they were. I would've told Barret that his little girl had died if he hadn't passed on himself the week before…"

Vincent grew slient, a dark shadow on his face. Fang felt pained at seeing him like that, She had seen it before, when a person would retreat into their own minds and see their loved ones. It only made things more unbearable when they returned to reality. She wanted to change the subject.

"Do you have anything to eat, Vincent Valentine? I've been starving forever." She asked.

His crimson eyes refocused on her, his expression suddenly unreadable. "Yes, but first I have something better. Follow me."

He turned around and headed for the door he had entered through earlier, the carpet tucked underneath his arm. Fang cautiously followed. At first glance he appeared to be more that just a little off, and he had a gun. Deranged people with guns were never good. But the room they walked into took her breath away, causing her to forget her concerns. Cans upon cans of food rested on neat, wooden shelves. Dried herbs tied together hung around the windows, pictures were set up of various people, including the couple Fang had seen before. There was a wood stove, a table with three chairs, and cabinets full various other home items. The smell in the air was full of spices. Whoever he was, Valentine had made as comfortable a life from himself as he could under the circumstances.

Vincent continued through the room without noticing her surprise. He entered another room in the back, Fang close behind. When she walked in she found the air warm and humid, like the summer days of her childhood. That's when she saw the steaming bathtub.

"I though you would like to wash first while I make supper." He said, giving her a moment to stare.

"You prepared this for me before you came out to see me?" She said with shock.

He kept looking at her with his red hot gaze.

"Sure. Sure, I would love a bath." She breathed, unable to believe her eyes as she focused on the bathtub.

The sound of a closing door announced that he had left, leaving Fang alone with the first body of warm water she had seen in a long time. Stripping off her filthy clothes, Fang entered feet first, giving a shudder at the feeling of hot water on her bare skin. When she finally was completely submersed, she left out a delightful moan.

"God, this feels good." She said soflty, remembering how she would often times have to wash in murky streams or lakes filled with dead fish or worse.

There was a half used bar of soap and a hand towel resting on a nearby shelf and she helped herself to it. Fang proceeded to literally scrub away endless months of grime and dead skin, the water soon not so clean as when she got in. She took the time to smell the soap and the steam, letting the moment sink in. She was actually having a bath!

"There's a robe in there." Vincent's voice called out from the other side of the door. "Feel free to use it. We can take care your own clothes later."

There was no large towel, so Fang stepped out dripping wet, almost slipping on the floor. She then laughed when she realized she was actually touching a clean floor with her bare feet. The robe was a little too small, leaving her legs exposed up to the middle of her thighs. No doubt it had belonged to a child once. She had to remember that at no time was she to bend over. But it was soft and clean, a real relief from what she had before.

There was a mirror on the wall opposite her, giving her the chance to take a good look at herself. She had lost a lot of weight and her eyes were lined with stress. Her hair stuck to her face, the ends red with being exposed too long to a harsh sun. Her skin had tanned a little, but the word 'burnt' came to mind. Yet her eyes were bright and her lips were still pink. That was something, she supposed. In any case, she looked a lot better that most things she came across. But the physical toll was there.

Opening the door, Fang felt like she had entered another world. The mouth watering aroma of spices and cooking meat filled the air, giving her once more reason for pause. Closing her eyes, she absorbed it all, actually enjoying the cramps her empty stomach was giving her. It was like she was being called to heaven without having to die first, which was fine by her.

Vincent had already set the table for two, using unmatched plates and cups. The forks and knives were stained and the glasses cracked at the base. To Fang it all looked like fine Wutai dining. On the plates were a hot meal of sausage and noodles spiced with crushed garlic and basil. There on the table rested a pitcher of clear, clean, cold, refreshing water. Vincent had already begun, looking up at her between mouthful.

"It won't get in your belly if you just stare at it." He said flatly.

Pulling out her seat, Fang kept her eyes on the food. It was a dream. There was simply no explanation. She had drunk more that her share of strong alcohol and was now right in the middle of a sweet dream which was going to end the moment she stuck a fork full of food in her mouth. Not wanting it to end, she kept staring, her insides quivering. The thought that it was all fake was scaring her. Because if it wasn't real she didn't want to face reality again.

"Why?" She asked Vincent suddenly, her eyes turning red with oncoming tears. "Why bring me here? Why give me new clothes, a hot bath and…and a meal? The planet is dead, we are all fighting for our lives. Why are you doing this?"

He finished swallowing, reaching for his glass of water and finishing it in one shot. As he set it back down he looked Fang in the eye, a drop of water tracing his chin. "Because I'm tired of being alone."

After that, Fang picked up her fork and started to eat.

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**A/N The hardest part this a story like this is what would be Fang's reaction to meeting another survivor. She wouldn't be happy at first, more defensive. Should she trust him or not? It's important to think about how to make things as real as possible. Sorry for it being short. I'll try to make the next one longer, but no promises.**


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